


Lovesong

by odd_stick (KrakenAntlers)



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17476679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrakenAntlers/pseuds/odd_stick
Summary: The one they thought lost finds his way back to them. It's been a long and hard journey, though, and it's not getting easier. AU after 2009 movie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN 2010 and posted on both ff.net and LJ**  
> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and such are owned by Hasbro and friends.  
> Pairing/Character(s): Ironhide/Ratchet/Wheeljack, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Sam Witwicky, William Lennox (Bayverse)  
> Prompt: Ironhide/Ratchet/Wheeljack, Bayverse, Rating doesn’t matter, moar smut, prompt – show-offs for LJ@synaltern  
> Warnings: AU, established relationships, tactile, sparksmex, STICKY in later chapters
> 
> A/N: I barely touched on the prompt and this fic took on a life of its own. 
> 
> I based Wheeljack’s alt. mode on his Alternity toy…mostly because I don’t like the look of the newer Lancia models. XP Wheeljack is shorter than the other two because a Mustang is not nearly as big as a Topkick or Hummer.
> 
> Hrm, this could fit into the same ‘verse as one of my other IronhidexRatchet fics, “Distraction”. Feel free to read it as a continuation to that and/or as its own entity.
> 
> The concept of Trines existing outside of the Seeker model has already been done, but I don’t know who used it first. Just know that in that regard, I was inspired/influenced by others! ^_^
> 
> And in case you couldn’t tell, I’m still a bit miffed about the Autobots only getting a hangar to live in according to the 2009 film. (They probably do have other places to hang out/recharge/etc., but it’s not mentioned in the movie.) So here, the mechs found their own ways around that. X3

It started out as a fuzzy tingling sensation in both their sparks. It was a gradual build and went largely unnoticed until they eventually found a bit of spare time just for themselves. When they reached the peak of overload, they both jumped when a barely discernible, but ecstatic call echoed from the seemingly cold and dark corner of their Bond. That link had long been thought dead and they both struggled with their surprise and joy. In a fit of passion they overloaded again, purposefully dragging their found Third along for the ride.

After rebooting and taking a precious moment to revel in the revived Bond, the two NEST members relayed the wonderful news to their Prime. Expressing his own happiness across their comm. links, he assured them that he would be debriefing their human allies as soon as possible.

~*~*~*~*~

A few nights later, the Autobot engineer made planet fall. The NEST soldiers and civilians were understandably excited to finally meet the infamous mech, but none of them would have been able to predict Ratchet and Ironhide’s reactions. As soon as the new mech had finished scanning his chosen alt. mode, Ratchet stormed forward and slammed his fist into the heavily armored face. “You just had to show off didn’t you?” the CMO yelled, his armor flared and body tense as his memory core replayed the horrific Decepticon attack that came without warning and their Bonded’s last ditch attempt to save the few surviving Neutrals and his Mates. Ironhide and Ratchet had both been devastated at what they thought had been the deactivation of their Trine Mate.

Sam, watching the scene from the safety of Bumblebee’s side, found his attention immediately drawn to the strange protrusions on the either side of the mech’s head. Multicolored lights danced and pulsed as he replied, “I missed you too, Ratch’.” The medic growled as the slightly shorter mech wrapped him in a bear hug – a strange and human action to see from such a new arrival to Earth, but Sam had the feeling that such a physical expression of affection came easily to the white and blue mech.

The dark form of Ironhide melted out of the inky night around the group of humans and Cybertronians. The weapons specialist’s brisk pace swallowed the distance between them, and both of the smaller mechs grunted as he wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t say anything out loud, but those that knew him well could see that he was speaking.

After a too short moment, the three untangled themselves from the embrace, but their fingers and sensors still clambered for soft, reassuring contact. Optimus smiled as he watched the spark warming reunion, and he reluctantly shepherded the entire ensemble back to the base.

The reunited Trine drove close together, the Mustang happily sandwiched between the two bulkier vehicles. Optimus chuckled when he offered to give the bemused Lennox a ride back since his transportation had apparently forgotten him in all the excitement. The seasoned soldier climbed into the semi’s cab with a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be sure to give ‘Hide hell for this later,” Will said as he relaxed into the driver’s seat. “I’m well aware of how overwhelming it can be to when you’re finally reunited with those you care about. Even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to pry myself from my wife’s side after Mission City.”

Driving with the rest of the group at a more sedate pace, Optimus replied, “I’m sure he will appreciate your understanding.”

“So, has the new guy figured out an English name yet?”

“Oh, yes. He is Wheeljack.”

~*~*~*~*~

The three Autobots were the first back to the base and each expressed their gratitude when they found that their Prime had called ahead to postpone Wheeljack’s interview with security and intelligence until morning. Ratchet and Ironhide led their Third to an out of the way hangar that they had unofficially claimed as their own. The building served as storage space, but with some creative shifting and stacking, they had managed to carve out a private den that they could escape to when the need for quiet space and privacy drew them from the shared Autobot’s hangar.

As soon as they were in deep within the safety of their sanctuary, Ironhide reached for his Mates and led them to the makeshift berth. He guided them down, hands already petting and teasing whatever sensitive parts he could reach. He and Ratchet neatly maneuvered the smaller mech so that he was positioned between them, giving each of them easy access to his frame. Their legs were tangled, but the arrangement was comfortable and familiar. Ironhide pulled Wheeljack back so that his back rested against the black chassis, giving the Weapons Specialist easy access to his neck column, shoulders, and sensitive head fins.

An ecstatic chirr escaped the Mustang as Ironhide mouthed the delicate external components to his audial sensors. Meanwhile, Ratchet took advantage of the distraction, scooting closer so he could easily run his hands over the new armor. Fingers traced transformation seams and teased what he could reach of the sensitive protoform through the gaps. Two sets of hands explored Wheeljack, recalling forgotten sweet spots as they went.

The engineer writhed between them, the sensations burning deliciously along his sensor net. It had been so long since he had been with his Trine. Their touches and mere presence overwhelmed him with indescribable joy. A static filled keen escaped his vocoder as Ironhide wormed his fingers deep under the armor on his side, fingers boldly stroking the wires and cables beneath.

Ratchet’s engine revved loudly at the wanton noise and he bent forward. The engineer had retracted his mask as soon as they had entered the hangar, so the chartreuse mech had no barriers to bypass as he met the slack lips. Wheeljack moaned at the contact, tilting his helm to deepen the kiss.

Still nipping and licking at the Mustang’s neck and shoulders, Ironhide felt like he could have overloaded just from the sight of his Mates together again after so many eons. Wheeljack was visibly drowning in the sensations he’d done without for so long, and Ironhide saw no real reason to continue forestalling the inevitable. They had plenty of time to draw these things out later. “Ratch’,” he murmured.

The medic reluctantly pulled away, a glare in his optics until Wheeljack took his revenge by fondling the ambulance’s wheel wells. “Y-yeah?” he breathed while trying to hold Ironhide’s gaze.

The weapons specialist didn’t take the time to explain, merely let his thoughts flow through their Bond. A wicked grin spread across his face when his Mates gasped simultaneously. “Open up lovers,” he said even as he commanded his own chassis to split and reveal his spark chamber.

Varying shades of blue light banished the darkness from their sanctuary as the three mechs exposed the physical embodiment of their life force and souls. A quiet clicking rose from the tangle of mechs, causing the larger two to huddle in closer around the third. Wheeljack wrapped his arms around their necks, nuzzling in as close as he could get to both of them at once. “I…I missed you both…so much.”

“Missed you too,” Ratchet whispered, voice strained, “We thought you were dead. Gone on to join the Well of Allsparks.”

Ironhide ran his powerful, gentle hands over their plating. “We wanted to join you, but now I’m glad we didn’t.” A rumble of laughter escaped him. “Woulda been real upset if we’d gotten there only to find out too late that you were still alive.”

Wheeljack managed a small laugh, his grief already being burned away by the truth that his Trine was still alive and well. He had been alone for so long, unwilling to let their memories go and he knew that they had suffered on their end too. “Please, remind me,” the engineer requested.

 _::Of course::_ they replied over the Bond as they came together, as close as they physically could. Their sparks pulsed in unison and reached out to one another in all senses of the word. They Knew each other, experienced their memories from Before the Trine and After. Felt the horrible loss of their Mate/Mates. Relived the recent discovery and realization that their Lost One/Ones had been found, and that was all that really mattered. Their broken Trine was whole again; happy, healthy, and so deeply in Love.

When they finally fell out of each other, their systems were happily buzzing. They needed no words; everything was as it should be. And so they rearranged themselves in a comfortable pile on the berth, taking comfort in their renewed Bond and how whole they all finally felt again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (for this chapter): Light snogging
> 
> Formatting Notes: Italicized section = flashback; ::text:: = communication over a Bond; “text” = spoken Cybertronian - format used when intermixed with other languages; //text// = comm. link communication. 
> 
> While on Earth, the Cybertronians will be speaking English, unless noted otherwise, and will only use their spoken native language sometimes. If the reason for this doesn’t come up later in the story, it will be further explained at the end.

_The energon seeping from the side of Ironhide’s helm worried Wheeljack, and the repetitive reassurances from Ratchet weren’t helping. The two smaller mechs were on either side of the soldier, supporting him as he stumbled down the corridor in the wake of the last Neutral stragglers. Even if they hadn’t been the ones to send the refugees that direction, it wouldn’t have been hard to track the group what with the sparse trail of still glowing energon on the floor leading the way._

_Wheeljack nearly lost his footing when he stumbled over a piece of rubble, jarring Ironhide and earning a pained groan from the dark mech. Quick apologies poured from his vocoder as his head fins cast the dim hallway in sharp edges of light and shadow._

_“Hush ‘Jack,” Ironhide grunted. “‘S’okay.”_

_Wheeljack’s tired smile, though hidden behind his blast mask, quickly disappeared when a loud explosion echoed from behind them. The walls and floor trembled as the shockwave shook the very structure of the building that was already falling down around them. All three mechs froze for half a nanoklik before readjusting their holds on one another and resuming their march._

_When the voices of the Decepticons reached his audio receptors, Wheeljack’s intakes hitched. The monsters chasing them weren’t warriors, they were murderers. The sociopathic scum had been sent into the Neutral camp to kill those that wouldn’t convert, and now they were giving chase, howling like beasts herding prey. Luckily, Wheeljack and his Trine had found the camp first, though they had barely had enough time to warn the Neutrals when the first wave hit._

_Now though, the Neutrals, while mostly injured, were safely in the lead, but all that stood between them and the Decepticons was a single Autobot Trine. Wheeljack tried to ignore the fact that their Trine only had one trained warrior in its group and said warrior was currently injured. His mind raced, searching for a way to save his Bonded and the Neutrals._

_Inspiration came in the form of an out of service security terminal, its screen repeatedly flashing an error message. “Ratchet, you go on with Ironhide. I’ve got an idea on how to cause these Decepticons a serious processor ache.”_

_“What? No!” the medic exclaimed. “We need to stick together. We’re almost outside, and once were in the open we can drive back to base.”_

_“The more time you spend here arguing, the less time I’ll have to build the bomb. Please, just go on ahead.” Wheeljack ducked out from under Ironhide’s arm and met first one and then the other’s optics. “It has to be a big enough explosion to bury them, and I need you two far enough away so I won’t be worrying about you getting caught in the blast. Don’t worry,” he said as he rested a hand on each chassis before him, “I’ll catch up.”_

_Silence stretched between them, but their feelings floated freely along the ties of their Bond. “C’mon Ratch’,” Ironhide said as he took a step towards their destination._

_The medic barely shifted under the larger mech’s weight, his pedes firmly planted. With his free hand he reached out and pulled Wheeljack close, his sensors and fingers running over armor plating. Ironhide sighed as he gripped the pale arm closest to him and squeezed gently. Their Third smiled at them, a reassuring hum escaping his vocoder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”_

_“You better be,” Ratchet growled as he finally averted his optics and rearranged the hold he had on the injured soldier._

_As they stepped past the engineer, Ironhide smirked. “See ya in a bit.” Wheeljack tried to ignore the faint glow of energon streaked across the large mech’s denta._

_His optics tracked their progress for five paces before he turned and rushed over to the security terminal. Pulling some tools from his subspace with one hand and transforming the other, he began to tear the machine apart. He peeled back the panels, bending them into the shapes he wanted with physical strength, using his portable heating torch to make the tougher sections more malleable. Multi-colored wires were cut, spliced, and stripped bare as he rearranged a relatively harmless piece of equipment into a weapon._

::Hurry:: _whispered his Bond mates._

_The Decepticons drew closer. Their words would have been intelligible if he had taken the time to listen, but he was too focused on measuring out the volatile elements he’d taken to carrying in his subspace once the War had broken out. H was so deep in his concentration that he didn’t notice the squawks of surprise when he was spotted._

_The blaster shot that pierced his thigh quickly had his attention though. A cry of pain escaped his vocoder as his leg collapsed under him, the raucous laughter of the ‘cons echoing off the crumbling walls._

::Are you two outside yet?::

::Yes. Where are you? Hurry::

 _Wheeljack knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun the Decepticons or the bomb now that his leg was ruined. Well, he thought, Creator always said I’d blow myself up one day. Making a few miniscule changes to the makeshift chaos in his hands, he reached out to his Mates one last time._ :: Love you both:: _he sent over the Bond before slamming down a mental barrier between himself and his Trine. Then he flipped the switch and threw the bomb into the midst of their enemies._

~*~*~*~*~

Blue optics flickered online as Wheeljack came out of recharge. He studied the unfamiliar ceiling, initial panic calmed by the knowledge that the warm bodies wrapped around him were those of his Bonded. He squeezed the hand that held his while turning his helm enough to nuzzle an exposed throat. Another hand, settled his hip, twitched. The fingers grasped while the ankle on top of his shifted. A deep rumble superseded his continued exploration of the offered neck.

“Morning ‘Jack,” Ironhide drawled. It turned out that it was his hand on the Mustang’s hip, as the fingers curled, gently tugging at seams and edges.

“Wonderful morning,” the engineer greeted as he tilted his helm back to meet the dark mech’s gaze. “Ratchet still in recharge?”

Ironhide didn’t have to stretch far to peer over Wheeljack’s smaller frame. “Like a hatchling,” he managed to say before losing his words to his Bonded’s talented glossa running over the edges of his breast armor plating and grill. Recovering from the pleasant distraction, Ironhide pulled his hand away from the Mustang’s hip and brought it to his helm to rest on a head fin. Thumb stroking along the ridges, the larger mech hummed a low note in pleasure.

Wheeljack shifted slightly and wormed his way into a closer embrace, wrapping his arms as far as he could around Ironhide’s waist while further entangling their legs. “Love you,” he said with a smile into the bulky chassis.

The black mech hugged him close and though he gave no spoken reply, the love and affection he felt for his Trine mates flowed through their Bond loud and clear. Wheeljack’s frame relaxed in the safety of those strong arms and he was sorely tempted to slip back into recharge. Unfortunately, while Optimus Prime had been able to curtail the attention of the Intelligence and Security officers last night, they all knew that the newly arrived Autobot needed to be officially inducted under the watchful gaze of their Earth allies as soon as possible.

The two mechs reluctantly extricated themselves from the tangle of limbs. Ironhide rolled off of the berth, taking a moment to stretch out any kinks that may have formed in his inner workings overnight. He watched with appreciative optics as Wheeljack did the same upon the berth; the smaller mech knew full well how enticing he looked. A wicked grin spread across his face before the blue and white mech rolled over and onto the still recharging form of Ratchet. The medic grunted when the other ‘bot settled his full weight on top of him and his optics shuttered until fully lit and aware.

“Wheeljack?” he asked, voice still laced with leftover static from the night before and a full recharge.

The mech in question dove in to steal a kiss from the confused medic before replying, “Good morning!”

Ratchet groaned and rolled to the side, causing the engineer to lose his balance and tumble back to the berth. “After all this time, I still don’t understand how you can be so cheerful so soon after coming out of recharge,” the chartreuse medic grumbled from behind the arm he had thrown over his face.

“Time to get up Ratch’,” Ironhide said with an unsympathetic smirk on his face. “We need to get ‘Jack checked in and registered so the humans don’t throw a fit.”

An unintelligible snarl was his answer. Wheeljack propped his elbow on the medic’s chassis and rested his chin on his open palm. “I was just thinking that it’s been a very long time since I’ve had my systems checked by someone that knew what they were doing,” he said with a thoughtful air. “I’m definitely behind on my regularly scheduled maintenance exams. You don’t happen to know if there’s a certified doc-bot around here do you?”

The CMO lifted his arm just enough for blue optics to peek out. Frowning at their Third he replied, “As soon as you are done with the natives, you will report to my med bay. No excuses.”

“Thought so,” the blue and white mech said with a small smile. “Want to join Ironhide in escorting me to what passes for an energon dispenser around here and then to wherever I’m supposed to officially check in?”

Ratchet rolled and prodded Wheeljack off of the berth so he could stand as well. The chartreuse mech rolled his shoulders as he vented a deep full body sigh, then grabbed Wheeljack and pulled him into a hug. “Good morning lover,” he said before placing a soft kiss on the closest cheek.

Wheeljack’s engine purred happily. He turned his helm so he could make it a real kiss. “I wouldn’t mind having that check-up now, doc-bot,” the blue and white mech whispered flirtatiously.

A delicious shiver ran up Ratchet’s back strut and he had to momentarily lock down his vocoder to suppress the needy moan that tried to escape. Barely trusting his own voice, he forced himself to decline the offer. “As…inviting as that sounds, we can’t keep Optimus and the others waiting. Ever since we became known to this planet’s public eye, we have had to be very careful about which rules we bend. We are the first alien life that the public has been informed of, and we make them nervous.”

The engineer frowned, but nodded his understanding. “All right,” he said before the frown morphed into a lascivious grin. “But I’ll be looking forward to my _exam_.”

If Ratchet could have blushed, he would have when the feeling of Ironhide’s mirth and lingering lust spiked over the shared space of their Bond. “Enough, enough,” he growled as he threw his hands up in the air. The medic wanted to play at hedonism and lay in the berth all day with his Mates, but he knew that the sooner they took care of the formalities the more time for themselves they would have later. He clasped Wheeljack’s hand and dragged the laughing mech behind him as he stomped over to Ironhide and grabbed his arm. The warm adoration from his Mates nearly ruined his show of irritation, but it didn’t stop him from dragging the two of them out of the warehouse and into the first rays of sunshine just barely peeking over the horizon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (for this chapter): STICKY
> 
> Formatting Notes: Italicized section = flashback
> 
> A/N: Sam may come off as a bit OOC in this chapter/story. It’s a couple of years after the events of ROTF and here he has been trained to become the official Human-Autobot liaison. While most officials argued against such an inexperienced young man taking such an important position, it can be safely assumed by the events of the second movie that the Autobots wanted Sam acting as the bridge between their peoples.
> 
> A multitude of thanks to the wonderful and amazing LJ@asher119 , who graciously beta’ed this chapter and helped me turn it into something coherent. Thank you dear!

The interview reminded Wheeljack of his younger days before the War when he had been subjected to similar interrogations by prospective academies or employers. Most of it was boring basic drivel – designation, rank, occupation, specialties, etc. However, when one of the interviewers started to subtly ask more personal questions, the Human-Autobot liaison had intervened.

“That’s enough guys,” Sam Witwicky said, a hand held up to forestall any protests. “He’s answered everything you asked everyone else. This isn’t an interrogation.” The young man stood, deceptively calm eyes daring the handful of men and women to say anything disparaging. Sam was constantly struggling in his fairly new position and his age and lack of traditional experience was a perpetual thorn in his side. He still argued from time to time that he was far from the best candidate as a bridge between Autonomous Robotic Organisms and his own species, but he knew that he had the support of those that truly mattered.

Mentally shaking himself free from that train of thought, Sam turned his attention to Wheeljack and said, “Optimus asked to see us after we were done here. Ready?”

The engineer nodded, having received a private comm. from their leader earlier. He watched as the young man descended the metal stairs of the tall structure the humans used when they wanted to be at optic level with their larger allies. Wheeljack followed Sam out the large sliding doors of the converted hangar and once they were out of earshot he quietly asked, “Do you want me to carry you or would you rather walk? Prime is currently on the other side of the compound.”

Sam smirked, shedding the professional facade. “How about we find out how fast you can get us there?”

The familiar and distinctive sounds of a transformation were accompanied by delighted laughter. The human’s eyes roved appreciatively over the white bodied Mustang. Sam thought to himself that the blue racing stripes looked nice, but weren’t nearly as cool as Bumblebee’s. But then again, he was a bit biased in that department.

When the driver’s side door opened, Sam ducked in and fastened the seat belt. His fingers had just barely brushed the steering wheel when Wheeljack’s voice came out of the speakers. “Brace yourself!” The sudden acceleration threw him back into the seat, but Sam grinned and hollered as they took off down the open pavement.

Wheeljack was a skilled driver, but he slowed down significantly as they approached the more heavily trafficked areas. Weaving around clusters of vehicles or people, they finally spotted Optimus Prime. The red and blue mech appeared to be listening to an extravagant tale told by the much smaller twins, Skids and Mudflap. Their brightly colored hands flailed through the air as they spoke excitedly.

Wheeljack stopped a respectable distance away and waited for Sam to exit before transforming. Once his identity had been confirmed before planet fall, he had been sent a digital data packet that had brought him up to speed on the current situation on Earth. As such, he knew of the twins, but had yet to meet them. He had to admit that he was curious about their new comrades since they had joined after his separation from the rest of the Autobots, but he was in no particular hurry. At the moment, the engineer was actually hoping they’d wrap up their story so he could talk to Prime and head to the med bay. He had an appointment to keep.

“Wheeljack?” Sam called from the ground, effectively breaking the mech from his preemptive daydreaming.

The engineer knelt down so the young man would not have to yell up at him. “Yessir?”

The human wrinkled his nose at the title and waved a hand in dismissal. “Ugh, don’t call me sir when it’s not official business. It still kinda freaks me out when people my dad’s age say it!” Fingers tugged at the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. “I’m still just trying to adjust to wearing ‘business apparel’ nearly every day.”

Wheeljack grinned behind his mask. He had a feeling he would get along with their liaison just fine. “Not much for formality?”

Shrugging slightly, Sam responded, “I’m pretty laid back, so it’s definitely taken some adjusting. Optimus and Banacheck have been helpful though. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help and advice. I just hope I don’t screw up too bad.”

“From what I’ve learned from the others and seen today, I think you may be on the right track.” The slight flush that bloomed across Sam’s cheeks intrigued the engineer, and he made a note to himself to ask Ratchet what exactly it meant. “So what did you want to ask me?”

A little trepidation crept back into Sam’s eyes. “It’s not so much of a question and more of a heads up. I don’t know if Ratchet or Ironhide has had time to tell you, but those of us that were there at your landing site knew ahead of time that you three are in a relationship. I’ve personally known about ‘Hide and Ratchet …for a while.”

A full-body shiver of remembered embarrassment shook Sam’s body with the utterance of that last statement and Wheeljack’s head fins lit up as he chuckled. “Walked in on them did you?”

The pinkish hue returned as Sam scratched at the nape of his neck. He had a difficult time meeting Wheeljack’s gaze as the words tumbled from his mouth. “I was mortified! I hadn’t known they were together, let alone that my new alien friends had sex. It hadn’t even entered my mind!” Slapping a hand over his eyes, he continued, “Ugh, and then Bee had to rescue me from their really awkward explanation. I did _not_ need to know the alien-sentient-machine version of the birds and the bees!” The chassis deep laughter that Wheeljack had been withholding burst forth, head fins flashing brightly in tandem.

“But you came to terms with it eventually, Sam,” the smooth voice of Optimus Prime offered as he joined them. The twins had finally finished their extravagant excuse for their latest mischief and he had waved them off with a warning.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the towering ‘bot, shooting a glare at the unsympathetic and still snickering Wheeljack. “Well, yeah. Doesn’t mean I have to like it…or how I can’t forget about it!” The human ran a hand through his hair as he smiled through his embarrassment. Turning his attention back to Wheeljack, he noticed that the engineer’s optics remained bright with humor, but Sam still had to warn him. “Seriously though, be careful how much public displays of affection you show around here that humans could easily figure out what’s up. Be careful how much you guys flaunt yourselves. People are still recovering from finding out that we’re not alone in the universe, let alone that said aliens have been hiding on our planet for years now. I don’t even want to think about the field day the Area 51 enthusiasts and conspiracy theorists would have if they found out about the whole sex-kinky alien thing.” The grin that formed at the memory of Leo’s own endeavors in the field of government cover ups quickly faded as his tone turned somber. “I hate to say it, but it would be safer for all three of you to keep your relationship on the down low.”

Wheeljack’s mood grew a bit solemn, but he nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry Sam; I hear that our species is very good at hiding.” The Mustang threw in a shuttered optic, mimicking a teasing wink.

Tucking his hands into his pockets and relieved that the conversation had gone smoothly, Sam thanked the Autobot. He let loose a quiet sigh of relief, glad that his words hadn’t upset the new arrival. Turning his attention to the larger mech, he asked, “How’re you today Optimus?”

The Prime lowered himself down to one knee, resting his forearm on the thigh of his upraised leg. “Good, only one emergency today,” he chuckled. “The Twins have just been getting into their usual trouble, but nothing serious. I take it that the meeting went well?”

Sam frowned, irritation resurfacing from earlier. “The interviewers are getting bold again. One of them started trying to sneak questions in that he had no reason to ask. I think there’s more going on behind the curtain.”

Optimus hummed thoughtfully as he offered his hand to the human, and Sam carefully climbed onto the huge palm. As he motioned for Wheeljack to follow, the Peterbilt made his way to the Autobot’s main hangar. “Have you asked Simmons about this?”

“He’s aware of my concerns. He has his eyes and ears open, as do Keller and Banacheck. I don’t know if this is beyond them, or over their heads, or even if there’s someone else in the game we don’t know about yet.”

The large mech ran a quick scan over the interior of the hangar, assuring that they were alone and unmonitored. “That leads me to what I wanted to discuss with you Wheeljack.”

Something clenched deep inside the engineer and his back straightened. _‘Don’t think about it’_ , he reminded himself. _‘You knew nothing, you told them nothing, so there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing happened.’_

“What is it, sir?” Wheeljack asked.

Optimus carefully deposited Sam on the top of some large crates so he would be closer to their level before turning back to the shorter Autobot. “You will be expected to formulate a report of what happened after your disappearance on Cybertron, but that can wait for now. What I want to know right away is, have you heard any recent news concerning the Decepticon movement? You’re aware of what’s happened on Earth, but we’ve been running blind here. Any information would be helpful.”

It felt like the liquid in his lines was crystallizing and his systems were locking up. He struggled to keep down the energon he had consumed earlier that morning as his body panicked along with his mind. His range of vision narrowed, darkening around the edges even as he felt the imagined claws around his spark tighten. His vocoder froze and he bowed his helm. To the two observers it looked like a thoughtful pose, but Wheeljack was trapped in an internal battle. He was duty bound to tell his leader what had happened out there in the dark ocean of space. _‘But’_ , that irritating voice kept reminding him, _‘nothing happened, so there is nothing to report.’_ It had no effect on the War anyway, so there was no harm in keeping it quiet. It was personal. It was nothing.

“I’m sorry to say that there’s not much news to share, sir. I left Cybertron with a small contingent of other Autobots and we followed in the Ark’s wake. We had a few skirmishes here and there, but at one point we all had to bail ship in escape pods. I have no idea where the others are.” He hung his helm in quiet mourning, hoping that at least a few had survived as well. “I mostly floated through space, but had to abandon my pod once it ran out of fuel. I was making my way towards your last known location when I picked up your message.”

 _‘It’s not a lie,’_ Wheeljack reminded himself as he saw their Prime absorb his bare bones report. _‘It’s not their business.’_

Optimus straightened, concern obvious on his unmasked face. “Are you sure you were not followed? By Autobot or Decepticon?”

“I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but my sensors never picked up a tail.” Wheeljack fought the anxious compulsion to form his multitude of tools out of the complex machinery of his forearms and hands. They hadn’t followed him. There had been no reason to.

Optimus nodded. “Thank you Wheeljack,” he said as he rested a hand on the Mustang’s shoulder. The warm touch and smile of their Prime had the engineer fighting his own vocoder from desperately spilling all of his secrets, but Wheeljack covered his internal turmoil as best he could.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help.” He struggled to keep his optics up and his back straight. His spark constricted and his tanks threatened to rebel. It was all he could do to keep his pain and inner conflict secret from his Trine. His outward appearance gave no hints either, his posture seemingly relaxed, but in truth, plagued by concern and memories long since passed.

The last Prime spoke softly. “Wheeljack, do not be sorry. I am just happy that one more of our species is alive and well. I am happy that you found your way to us and back to your Trine.”

He had to force his words past unwilling lips, and even his head fin lights were subdued. “Thank you, Prime.”

Sam watched the subdued conversation silently. He had been brought along because of his political position, but also because he was a friend. He needed to be aware of any movement by the Decepticons since his species was still at risk and he was still a target. He had slighted Megatron not once, but twice, and the huge Cybertronian would never forgive such trespasses. Sam still wasn’t sure if he should feel honored or terrified that his name was right up there with Optimus’s and the other top Autobot officers on the Decepticon’s hit list.

Watching Optimus interact with his people was an interesting and educational experience. Sam knew that the huge mech was essentially the Autobot general, but he had also come to learn that the Prime also played a spiritual, almost religious, role. Optimus was the epicenter of what the Autobots stood for and he was what held them together.

At that moment though, Sam noticed something, just a slight buzzing traveling over the parts of his brain that had been changed by the Allspark and the Matrix. He watched as Wheeljack took his leave, smiling and waving as he went.

“Something’s not right,” the liaison said quietly.

Optimus sighed, air cycled through his vents and the slight breeze tousled Sam’s hair. “I know. I never got the chance to know Wheeljack as well as his Trine mates, but something was bothering him.” The large mech offered his hand to the human again and after making sure he was safely situated, made his way out of the hangar. “I suspect, however, that this is less about us and more about his Trine.”

Gripping the large fingers that carefully caged him in, Sam spoke his thoughts. “Yeah. I mean, he only landed last night. I know I’d be distracted after reuniting with my lovers.”

A warm chuckle preceded the large mech’s response. “Let’s try to keep the base together for the next few hours without them then.”

~*~*~*~*~

“You weren’t going to comm. me were you?” Ironhide asked; voice deep but with a teasing edge. “You were going to woo him into your den and leave me high and dry out on the shooting range while you two had all the fun.”

“Of course I was going to comm. you, idiot,” Ratchet scolded absentmindedly. He continued to putter around his med bay, cleaning and rearranging tools.

The weapons specialist struggled to hold back a grin at the flustered state of his Bonded, knowing full well what was happening. He pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against and sauntered over to Ratchet. The medic was so distracted that a startled chirrup escaped him as Ironhide’s arms snaked around his waist.

Ironhide nuzzled the sensitive plating behind and below Ratchet’s audial sensors. “Don’t fret. You’re acting like a youngling trying to impress a new sweetspark.” A grumpy harrumph and crossed arms were the CMO’s retaliation, but a strategic nibble by the Topkick nearly broke his resolve.

Ratchet’s frame relaxed minutely, armor shifting so that their embrace was more comfortable for both. “I know.” He rubbed a hand over his optics. “This is so idiotic. I know I shouldn’t worry, but it’s been so long.”

An affirmative hum escaped Ironhide and arms tightened around the medic’s waist. “I know, Ratchet, but we’re Trine. Even if you fumble about like a youngling, I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Ironhide teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Ratchet slapped one of the arms holding him. “Shut it, you old codger. I can tell you’re anxious too.”

“Yeah, but there’s no point in worrying about it. It’ll be all right,” Ironhide whispered as he left a trail of tender kisses along the cables of Ratchet’s neck. Ratchet sighed as he let his head fall back on his mate’s shoulder. Neither heard Wheeljack’s quiet entrance.

When Wheeljack entered the med bay, he stopped in his tracks. His thoughts were already whirling in a dark maelstrom, his spark aching, but the sight of his Trine mates embracing one another should not have upset him. In their relationship, and most other Trine Bonds, it was not uncommon for a member to get left out occasionally. It wasn’t an act of betrayal or exclusion, it just happened sometimes when one partner was separated from the others by distance, duty or preference.

He had always found the sight of his mates together to be incredibly attractive and never before had he hesitated in joining when he could. But now, looking at them with painful memories fresh in his processor, how could he join in? How could they want him back? He had been gone for so long and now, when he was finally within their reach, they still did not wait for him, did not reach for him even. His spark cried out for them both, but he stubbornly kept his side of the Bond muted. Even last night, he had carefully shielded parts of himself, keeping his secrets buried far beyond their reach.

Watching his lovers caress and hold one another, he knew he wasn’t needed. He would only be a painful blemish on their Bond. Attempting to back away from something he couldn’t bear to see, couldn’t bear to watch, and too keenly felt slipping away, he shifted a pede back. The resulting impact with a piece of equipment and the loud clatter startled the two embracing mechs. They didn’t completely break apart, but their optics immediately found their Third.

“‘Jack, you okay?” Ironhide asked, keeping a steadying hand on Ratchet’s hip while stepping towards Wheeljack. His sensors and optics scoured the engineer for damage, but it didn’t take a medic to see the shell-shocked look about him. “What’s wrong?”

The smaller mech shook himself, optics switching the focus of his gaze from Ironhide to Ratchet and back again. “Nothing,” Wheeljack replied quietly, his head fins barely lighting up. _‘Nothing happened. There’s nothing to be upset about.’_ “Everything’s fine.”

“‘Jack,” Ratchet called, “come here.” He beckoned with a hand and the Bond. _::Please don’t shut us out::_

The first step was hesitant, but Wheeljack soon found himself in his Trine’s embrace without really knowing how he got there. _::sorrysorry Had to report to Prime and it brought up memories::_

The two larger mechs shared a look over Wheeljack’s bowed helm. “You know we’ll listen,” Ironhide coaxed as ran his hands soothingly over the pale armor.

The two of them had always listened, just like they had always done everything, _together_. Pit, they’d even courted him _together_. _He_ was the imposter, the unnecessary Third. He knew they would listen, but he also knew that once they found out what had happened, he would lose them. Lose everything.

 _‘Stop it,’_ Wheeljack admonished himself. _‘They are your Trine. They wanted you and they still do. Forget the past and just let yourself be happy.’_ The engineer retracted his blast mask and lifted his helm from the crook of Ratchet’s neck. “Help me forget?” he asked, a small smile surfacing.

Ironhide chuckled, relieved to see their Third trying to overcome whatever had triggered the dark mood. “You won’t be able to remember your name by the time I’m through with you.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped from Ratchet. Wheeljack could almost feel the smile that sat upon the medic’s lips as he brushed a kiss onto the closest head fin. “Now you’ve done it love.” Ratchet undermined his feigned exasperation when he led his Trine towards the curtained off area he usually used as a makeshift office. He couldn’t lock the med bay in good conscious, but he could at least guarantee they would have a measure of privacy in case someone did burst in for an emergency. His brief data burst of Do Not Disturb earned him giggles from the Twins and Bumblebee, but he immediately blocked all casual and net comm. channels.

The ‘office’ could barely be described as such, but he did have a makeshift berth for those thankfully rare occasions when he didn’t want to be too far from a patient. As if reading his mate’s thoughts, Ironhide asked, “Berth or desk?”

Wheeljack tugged on the hand holding his, pulling Ratchet close. He met Ironhide’s optics as he gripped Ratchet’s grill guard in order to tug the slightly taller mech down to his level. “Do we only get to pick one?”

Banishing any lingering doubts for the moment, Wheeljack met Ratchet’s lips halfway. The wonderfully familiar sensation called forth a flash of memory, one of their earliest kisses. He had been the aggressor then too, impatient with the formal courtship in a time where any one of them could have been lost to the new and terrifying unknown that was the Decepticons. Smiling into their kiss, Wheeljack pulled back far enough to catch his breath. He rested his forehead against Ratchet’s, one hand coming up to caress the medic’s jaw line. The other hand still had an iron grip on the grill guard, keeping him grounded and refusing to let go of his lover.

The purring engine behind him and bold touches reaffirmed Ironhide’s presence. Wheeljack’s intakes hitched when those powerful hands dragged along his armor, delving in between the wider gaps to tease the protected protoform beneath. “Primus, I missed you two,” he managed in a breathy whisper before returning to Ratchet’s panting mouth.

 _::love you missed you so happy now::_ swirled between the three of them, echoed and repeated like a mantra.

Ironhide watched with appreciative optics as his two mates lost themselves to each other, lips melding and glossa peeking out when they had to draw back to cool their systems. He was running hot himself, and wasn’t too terribly interested in cooling down as his hands freely roamed across Wheeljack’s lower abdomen. With a gentle guiding push and a touch of fingers to Ratchet’s hip, he slow danced the three of them forward until the back of Ratchet’s legs hit the desk.

Ratchet hummed low in his chassis as he sat and pulled Wheeljack, and incidentally Ironhide, closer. The engineer’s hands found purchase on Ratchet’s thighs while his kisses and playful nips found their way down the column of his neck. Ironhide’s ministrations to his own neck and shoulders caused Wheeljack’s fingers to shake with forced restraint as he traced the seams along Ratchet’s inner thighs.

A quiet gasp escaped the medic when Wheeljack’s fingers finally edged close enough to teasingly brush over the protective cover to his interface array. Ratchet braced himself with one hand around the nape of the engineer’s neck while the other reached for Ironhide, but it was only met with teasing kisses. Ratchet moaned as he retracted his panel and granted access to his lovers. Clever fingers lightly swept over the exposed valve, drawing a delicious shiver from him.

“I’ve got an idea,” Ironhide said as he watched Wheeljack sink a digit into the glistening valve of their mate.

A curious, growling whine escaped Ratchet. “It-it better be a fragging good one.”

Ironhide smirked at him over Wheeljack’s shoulder before tucking his face in close to a flashing audial and whispered something to the shorter mech. Ratchet would have tried to focus on what was said, but the wicked grin that spread across Wheeljack’s face and the second digit added to his valve distracted him. Ratchet scrabbled for purchase on Wheeljack’s frame as fingers teased him at a frustratingly slow pace. He only noticed that Ironhide had moved when the dark mech returned with his desk chair and sat down behind Wheeljack.

“What are you two planning?” he asked, even as he followed Wheeljack’s direction to recline and came to rest propped up on his elbows. Curiosity waned as he relaxed into his mate’s touch, lit optics flickering as Wheeljack teased the sensitive entrance of his valve.

“Oh, not much,” Wheeljack managed to say before losing his composure when Ironhide’s talented hands found the manual command to retract his interface cover. Wheeljack fought to focus on continuing his relearning of Ratchet’s body while Ironhide teased his valve with one hand and gently stroked his spike with the other. Wheeljack’s frame shook with steadily building pressure, the physical and emotional love and affection driving him mad with pleasure.

Drawing another thick moan from Ratchet as he twisted his fingers and added another into the soaked valve, Wheeljack finally conceded defeat. “‘Hide, I don’t think I can last much longer…”

Hands released him, and he had to grit his denta to hold in the whine at their loss. “Spread your legs so I can get closer,” Ironhide said, voice rough with restraint as he gripped Wheeljack’s hips. He could happily let himself sit back and tease his mates as they pleasured each other, and had done so on a few memorable occasions, but saw no reason to deny himself a deeper involvement today.

Wheeljack shifted his stance as Ironhide had asked and almost chuckled as the realization finally hit the lust-clouded mind of Ratchet. “Finally figure it out?” he asked even as he felt Ironhide situate himself.

“I think this would have worked better on the berth,” Ratchet murmured even as his dimmed optics recorded the image on Wheeljack’s face as he sank back on Ironhide’s spike. Fingers twitched deep in Ratchet’s valve, massaging the inner walls even as Wheeljack felt his own body stretch to accommodate Ironhide’s girth.

A quiet, keening whine couldn’t be contained as Wheeljack braced his upper body on the edge of the desk while Ironhide slowly rolled his hips. Linked to both his mates, Wheeljack made no effort to silence his wanton mewling. He moved with Ironhide’s thrusts, flexing his hips and thighs, and reveled in the pleasurable friction.

Their spark merge the night before was a reaffirmation of their Bond and had brought their souls back in contact, but Wheeljack had held back, terrified of what his Trine would find buried deep within himself. Physical sex was a release from that inner turmoil, and besides which, certainly held its own healing properties. Connecting to his mates in such a primal manner drove home the fact that he really was with them; they weren’t just a figment of his imagination and wishful thinking, or a spark-wrenching dream.

Any further introspective thoughts were driven from Wheeljack’s processor when Ironhide gripped Wheeljack’s spike and stroked in tandem to his own shallow thrusts. The multitude of tiny scars along the warm palm had Wheeljack close to begging for more than the teasingly light hold. Nearly lost to the sensations of Ironhide’s hand traveling up and down his shaft, Wheeljack’s fingers groped for Ratchet’s hips and tugged, beckoning the medic to slide closer. When the valve of his lover was within easy reach, Wheeljack put some of his weight and strength on Ratchet’s hips. Damp heat brushed Wheeljack’s face and the heady scent of arousal beckoned to him. Eager to reacquaint himself with the taste, he dragged his glossa along the rim of the entrance of Ratchet’s valve. The staticky holler he got in response and Ironhide’s increased pace egged him on, and soon his glossa was delving in while he sealed his lips around the opening. It was everything he remembered and more, better than the purest energon and more tempting than any ambrosia.

Ratchet’s back bowed even as his hands reached and strained to touch Wheeljack’s face and helm. They all quivered when Ironhide forewent the chair completely, standing up to gain better leverage as he thrust into Wheeljack’s valve. Wheeljack felt like he was drowning, but in the most amazing way. He was caught between the two best things that had ever happened to him, and he immersed himself in their passionate touches, reciprocating when and where he could. He bathed in their shared love and desperately prayed that it would wash him clean of his sins.

Grasping for a deeper connection with his lovers, Wheeljack relinquished his hold on Ratchet’s writhing hips and replaced his glossa with his fingers. Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Ratchet’s spike.

A chain reaction occurred - valve walls sporadically clenched around Wheeljack’s digits as he moaned around Ratchet’s spike, riding out both of their overloads and Ratchet’s breathless, whispered litany of his mates’ names. Wheeljack’s hips bucked as Ironhide emptied himself into his trembling valve. Moaning through his own release, Ironhide pumped Wheeljack’s spike until his lover cried out in a secondary overload.

Ironhide was glad for the chair as his weakened legs gave out under him. The startled chirp from Wheeljack that accompanied the abrupt changed in angle brought a tired smile to his face. He hadn’t meant to surprise Wheeljack and soothed the tired grumbling by running his hands over the warm plating of his mate’s back and sides. Wheeljack sat snugly in his lap, Ironhide’s spike still buried deep, but rested his cheek on one of Ratchet’s thighs. Ironhide leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Wheeljack’s waist as he kissed pale shoulders.

A weary grunt escaped from Ratchet as he struggled to sit up, but warm contentment radiated from his optics. He ran his hands over both his mate’s helms soothingly. “Good idea Ironhide,” he said with a smirk.

The dark mech scoffed. “It was a great idea,” he groused as he nuzzled at Wheeljack’s neck.

Ratchet twisted his helm to get a better look at their Third’s bowed face. “You okay ‘Jack?” he asked, trailing his fingertips over a head fin.

The audial lights that blinked in response were a cheery, warm orange, but Wheeljack kept his face hidden. Both mechs heard the smile as the Mustang said dreamily, “Best check-up I’ve ever had.”

Ironhide hugged the smaller mech tightly as he laughed, but Ratchet forced a frown on his face. “That did _not_ count as your check-up.”

Finally turning his helm enough so he could meet the optics of his Trine, Wheeljack smiled. “Is another inspection needed then?”

Ironhide’s thoughts on that were easily deduced from the rev of his engine and the shift of his spike still snugly bedded in Wheeljack’s valve. The shiver that ran up Wheeljack’s back strut and static that overran his vision was balanced by Ratchet’s smirk and the tender kiss that landed upon his open lips. Ratchet glowed with happiness and relieved tension, his emotions clear in both body and through the Bond.

‘How could I ever, ever doubt this?’ ran through Wheeljack’s tired thoughts. Even as his Trine showered him with loving touches and he reciprocated in turn, Wheeljack’s spark ached. The shadowy demons of doubt and guilt sank their claws deeper with every lie and censored truth he told with both words and actions. _‘Savor this,’_ he thought, straining to deepen the kiss with Ironhide over his own shoulder as Ratchet’s hands wandered down his chassis. _‘Savor this while it lasts.’_

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The story/explanation behind why Ironhide and Ratchet thought Wheeljack was dead and vice versa is that his spark came very close to extinguishing. By the time he was healthy enough to feel the Bond again, great distance coupled with the two of them temporarily blocking his third of the Bond led him to believe that they were lost in the battle. FYI – ‘Hide and Ratch blocked off their side as a coping mechanism, but eventually opened it again which is how ‘Jack felt/found them after getting close enough to sense the Bond.


End file.
